From anger and from opposition to the unmerited offence she had a firm idea that the Marquis of Bellavista would never have been so jealous, so foolishly jealous. Libertines know the hearts of women a little better.
The husband went out of the house without a farewell word to his wife. He became a spy on the marquis, and followed his steps from café to café, at the club, amongst friends, dividing his projects, and tormenting himself in a hundred and one ways, one more absurd than the other.
“Will you allow me, dear, to make an observation?”
The question is asked by a man still in bed, and is addressed to his wife, who is near him under the same sheet, and is still sleepy.
“About what?”
“About the French song you sang yesterday at the countess’s.”
“And what have you to say about it?”
“That you pronounced the u very badly, just as if it were ou.”
“And have you nothing else to criticise?”